A 5-part Origins story about Joel and Tommy's journey to Boston, and meeting Tess.

Obviously they would've had to travel a good distance, if they've come from Texas to Boston, so here's my take.


Boston isn't the first quarantine zone he goes to. It's not even the second. Coming so far up from Texas is tedious and exhausting - Joel and Tommy start off in Tennessee; the closest one they could get to. It takes a little bit of wheedling, begging, and maybe some cold-hearted savagery, but Joel gets them into the QZ.

He even finds them jobs.

"Better than sittin' around and starin' at the fuckin' ceiling," Joel growls at Tommy one day, when his younger brother seems to lack enough appreciation for his liking. He can't stand the thought of sitting idle all day; not with a mind like his. With memories just waiting to come clawing back at him like a nightmare.

He finds work, and he does it well. They've left their home and their families back in Texas.

Joel's left a part of him there as well.

It died alongside Sarah.

They pick up odd jobs here and there; enough to keep them alive, but not much else. They've got the clothes on their backs and a place to rest their head, and maybe sometimes they go a little hungry, but never for long. Joel settles things.

He always settles things.

As far as he knows, they're the last of their bloodline. He plans on keeping it alive by any means necessary.

Rumor spreads around the zone about a group of survivors gone rogue; 'hunters' they were calling themselves - ruthless, lethal killers who took lives and rations and anything else they wanted.

It isn't the best of ways, but in a world like theirs now; there's no such thing as a right way.

Tommy is suspicious from the very first day Joel comes home with a box of goods - food, ammo, clothes. "Where the fuck did you get these?" he demands, pacing the small apartment frantically already; almost dizzying himself into a panic. "Huh? Where'd you get 'em, Joel? You sure as hell didn't get 'em from work!"

"What's it matter how I got 'em?" Joel snarls back; loads his brand new Colt semi-automatic. He's hardly unscathed, bleeding here and there and bruising a little but it's just another battle wound that'll fade away in time. "You're still alive, ain't you? You ain't gone hungry yet, have you?"

This only distresses Tommy even more; Joel wonders if he's going to rip at his hair. "I'd rather starve and die an honest man than live with the blood of the innocent on my hands!" he sputters, and Joel almost wants to laugh at his younger brother.

"These weren't innocent people, Tommy," he utters coldly, and holsters his gun. "And we are not honest men anymore." He shoves the box across the counter to his brother, his eyes steely black as Tommy glances into its contents. "You either learn to accept that and fucking survive, or you might as well lay on your back like a dog."

Tommy storms off in a flurry, and Joel lets him leave even though desperately inside he wants to trail after the man, beat him over the head a little and knock some sense into him because you don't fucking storm out of a fucking apartment unarmed.

Not in a world like this.

But he's tired and sore, so Joel lays himself down quietly on his own little ratty mattress, and tries to find some rest.

His Colt sits tucked into his jeans, safety on.

Tommy comes back a while later, shaking hard and pale as a ghost. Joel opens his mouth to ask what happened, but Tommy drops a box of something at his feet, and when he speaks his words come out in a horrible quiver. "There's your fuckin' dog."

He doesn't speak to Joel for the next two days, and when he does finally, Joel knows that there's a part of his brother that he's taken away too.

But at least he'll keep breathing.


He's a good Hunter.

So good he's terrified of it.

He's always been good with a gun, good with his aim; with his bare hands when he needs to be. Joel is a force to be reckoned with when he wants to be, and it is horrifying to think about. The way he can look a person in the eye, dead straight in the eye, and put a bullet between his eyes a split second later is not for most people.

Hell, most of the Hunters like killing from a distance - close range is a frightening endeavor, but Joel will march up to whomever it is he's hunting, and breaks bones to get what he needs.

The Hunters are afraid of Joel.

Tommy is afraid of Joel.

Afraid, and disgusted with his own brother.

Being a Hunter means they have to travel. They can't stay in one place for too long; soldiers have a bounty on Joel's head already, so they hit the road again.

Just the two of them.

Same as before.

They hit the D.C. QZ for a little while - barely there long enough to find a decent place to stay before Joel's hauling Tommy back into the car and pounding the gas pedal into the floor to avoid the hail of bullets coming after them. One bullet breaks through the back windshield and nicks Tommy on the arm, but he lives.

At that moment Joel isn't sure who he's more upset with. Himself for letting Tommy get in the way of harm, or Tommy for not ducking like he told him to.

He doesn't think to linger on it for long. There's no use pointing fingers anymore with a brother who won't look him in the eye without anything less than disgust or scorn.

At the very least, Joel consoles himself with knowing that he doesn't see the hate in Tommy's eyes.

Not yet.